Down Into the Dark and Deep
by A. Zap
Summary: One does not simply walk into Hell. Even if you are an angel. Especially to rescue someone's soul. Castiel centric.
1. For the Righteous Man

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. Cas would get the hugs he deserves if I did.**

* * *

Down Into the Dark and Deep

**For The Righteous Man**

"The Righteous Man is being pulled into Hell as we speak." Zachariah said, looking at the several Garrison Captains assembled before him.

Castiel stood beside his fellow Captains, slightly in awe that his Garrison was one of the ones chosen for this important task.

Despite the fact that he was the youngest of the Host, he had risen through the ranks and became a captain, known for his speed and skills in flight, sigils, and tactics. Even though he had proved himself in battle, there will still those who looked down on him due to his youth. They regarded his Garrison's task of watching the Earth to be beneath them and the perfect assignment for the young Captain. Secretly, Castiel had loved this task as he enjoyed watching over his Father's creation, but he knew too many did not agree.

Still, here his Garrison was one of the ones chosen to help save the Righteous Man.

Zachariah flew down the line, inspecting the Captains. "You are to cut a path to the Righteous Man. The ones to actually retrieve the Righteous Man will be the Seraphs who will accompany you. You will then ensure them a way out as they return him to Heaven to be healed and then return him to life." He stopped in front of Castiel and gave him a pointed look. "This is all you're supposed to do, understood?"

"Yes, sir." Castiel and the other captains responded automatically.

"Very well." Zachariah nodded his dismissal after giving the instructions of where the siege on Hell would start.

However, Castiel found himself staying back a moment longer.

"Is there a problem, Castiel?" Zachariah asked impatiently.

"Are we to know the Righteous Man's name?" Castiel wondered.

"Ah." Zachariah turned away, moving onto his next task. "His name is Dean Winchester."

"Dean Winchester." Castiel said to himself, before he nodded and turned away.

* * *

"I don't want you to go."

Castiel looked up from where he was finishing up on preening his feathers. He didn't know how long this mission would take and he probably wouldn't have time in Hell to attend to them. Since misaligned feathers would hinder his flight if things got bad, he needed to be ready. It was his final task before gathering his Garrison for the assault. With a flick of his wings, his black feathers settled into place.

No angel's wings were exactly the same. All angels had different color wings. Though there were the same colors among angels, it was never the same shade, or same pattern of a main color mixed with other colors. It was rumored that Lucifer was once so highly regarded, because his wings were pure white. How could something so light be evil? On the other hand, Castiel's were like that of the raven, black and with a glossy blue sheen where the light hit it. Balthzar's were silver and they shimmered as they shook with worry and slight anger.

"It is an honor to be given such a mission." Castiel finally replied, making sure his angel blade was in its sheath. "Are you not supposed to be in the armory as per usual?"

"It's going to be a bloody bloodbath." Balthazar snapped. "You and the others are just going to be cannon fodder. They don't care how many of you fall in order to rescue some puny human."

Castiel straightened. "This is not just some human, Balthazar; it's the Righteous Man."

"So what?" Balthazar's wings flared slightly. "It's not worth the cost!" His voice dropped to a whisper. "None of you, not even the commanding Seraphs, are allowed to take any weapons from the Vaults."

Castiel frowned. This was a large tactical mistake. Without any of the weapons, that meant that they were going in with only their angel blades. It would prolong the conflict needlessly and it would give the demons a larger time window to try to turn the Righteous Man. More would probably die, especially since it was in Hell. Demons were stronger there and angels were not as powerful.

"I see." Castiel replied, still mulling over it. "But regardless, I must go."

Balthazar sighed. "Knew you would say that." He stepped forward. "Which is why I'll be going with you."

Castiel blinked. "But…"

"It's already been approved." Balthazar smirked. "Someone's going to have to watch your back, Cassie."

"I do not like that name." Castiel grumbled.

Balthazar laughed as they flew over to the assembly. All levity left once they arrived at the gathering. Balthazar took his place besides Uriel, and Castiel positioned himself at the front of his Garrison.

Silence fell, and for a moment, all was still.

And then the angels leapt into Hell.

* * *

As any demon would tell you, Hell is, well, Hell.

Hell is where demons thrive. Hell is, by definition, the complete absence of God. It is the opposite Heaven. Heaven is cool and full of light. The souls there create their own space filled with their favorite memories that can only be shared with their soul mate. Hell, on the other hand, was dark and full of flame and smoke. Souls screamed in the face of torture or, after becoming demonized, laughed at the pain of others. The only part of Hell that wasn't hot was the area around the Cage where Lucifer dwelled and froze the surrounding area. It's probably where Dante got his idea of a Frozen Hell.

Due to the lack of God's presence, angels were not as powerful in Hell, though they were still plenty powerful than the average demon. However, their numbers were more limited. It was not necessarily the power of the demons that would overwhelm them, but the sheer number.

And angels could die in Hell.

From the moment they entered the realm, all of the angels had been beset by the demonic hordes. Castiel fought side by side his brothers and sisters as they tried to push their way through the Pit.

The darkness closed in all around them. It was like it was just as sentient as the demons that clawed at them, wishing to destroy them and smother them into its embrace and drag them down into the Pit to stay. Fire flared, only providing enough light in order to illuminate horrors that were best left unseen.

The battle was a continuous ebb and flow. The angels would manage to find a break in the forces and surge forward. The demons would counterattack and make them take one step back. It was a ceaseless dance only with more blood and death.

Even from the corner of his eye, Castiel could see the sudden flare that indicated a dying angel's Grace just burst. It angered him and he could again understand Balthazar's earlier concern. With the weapons of Heaven, this would be so much easier. And wasn't rescuing the Righteous Man the priority of Heaven right now in order to prevent Lucifer's seals from breaking? What were their higher ups thinking?

Still, Castiel couldn't worry about that as he battled yet another demon. The demons were using more and more guerilla tactics as they realized that their knowledge of the terrain gave them an advantage. Now, they were purposefully drawing back in order to lure angels into their traps. The more prideful and reckless easily fell to their fangs and claws.

Castiel made sure to keep half an eye on his Garrison and Balthazar. Luckily, he had trained them enough to resist such temptations of easy kills, and they had suffered the least casualties so far. Other garrisons were not so lucky and he could hear other captains straining to call their troops to order.

Thus was how the battle was like within the first decade of the siege on Hell.

* * *

It was as the second decade of the incursion dawned that the first Seraph died.

A ripple of shock came as a wave through the thousands of angels as they felt the death. In its wake was shock and the first smatterings of fear.

_How could a Seraph be killed by measly demons?_

Even angels who had always been assured of their own power, such as Uriel, were shaken. It was downright demoralizing.

And Castiel knew that frightened troops were in more danger from their fear than from the demons themselves.

"Group up!" He snapped out the order, and his Garrison was quick to attend with the other garrisons also picking up on the demand. "Do not allow yourself to separated out and stick together in teams. Work together and do not get hemmed in."

The angels followed his new strategy. In smaller teams rather than in their normal rank and file allowed more movement, and being in teams, which most angels were used to having for smaller missions, allowed strengths to be gathered and combined. The other captains followed Castiel's example.

They were further into the Pit, but at times it seemed like they were no closer to the Racks where Alistair himself was probably working on the Righteous Man. Still, as long as they worked together, they would surely win.

At least, Castiel hoped so.

As they got further into Hell, it just got darker and Hell fire sprang up in burst. Angels shied away from it, because if there was anything that angels feared about the same as Holy Fire, it was Hell fire.

Both could burn angels to death, and it would not be pleasant.

Still, despite the change in tactics, the other Seraphs were dead by the end of the second decade.

By that time, nothing Castiel or the remaining captains, for several of them had died as well, could say could keep fear at bay.

* * *

The Racks were almost in sight.

Castiel tried to take some comfort in that, but it was so hard. Their numbers were steadily dropping, and now it wasn't just from angels dying. There were some who were deserting.

It was disgraceful, in a sense, to abandon a mission. Castiel couldn't quite blame them for it though. They had tried to keep moral up, but the stream of demons never ended. Some angels had gotten to close to the Hell fire and even now, Castiel could hear their screams as they burned.

Still, Castiel considered them to be relatively lucky. None of the big hitters, ones who had an investment in Lucifer's rising and those who simply wanted the angels out of their territory, had approached them yet. Castiel feared that they would not make it through an encounter with one of them; more due to angels fleeing rather than that they could not take one of them.

By this time, they had been fighting their way through Hell for almost thirty years. All of them were exhausted. Angels had no need for sleep or sustenance once they started training, but they had nothing but nonstop battle since they had stepped foot in Hell. Even an Angel of the Lord couldn't help but feel tired after ceaseless fighting for thirty years.

Castiel ducked and weaved around the group of demons he was fighting, slicing off limbs and stabbing them in their black hearts. He heard a growl behind him, and he whirled around to see a hellhound launching for his throat. An angel blade struck the hellhound right between the eyes.

"Need some assistance, Cassie?" Balthazar teased as he yanked his blade out of the hound. Despite the atmosphere, he was trying to keep the tone light, hiding his worry.

"Thank you." Castiel nodded towards him, and took a moment to catch his breath.

That was when they felt it, the eyes of all angels present widening.

It started as a small crack, and grew to a thunderous crash. It was the sound of something powerful breaking, and they all knew what it meant.

They had failed. The Righteous Man had broken and shed blood in Hell. The First Seal had broken.

The Apocalypse was nigh.

They all took a sharp breath. The battle of their entire existence that they had been waiting for since Lucifer's Fall was around the corner, and they were going to have to scramble to protect the other seals on Earth.

The demons around them had stopped fighting, and their voices raised in cheers.

Castiel frowned and punched the nearest demon out. They had come so far, and yet it had all been for naught. What was the point? What had all of those angels died for? He felt angry, some at Heaven for not providing the resources necessary for their task and some for the Righteous Man not waiting for them.

"Dammit." Balthazar muttered, looking around at the rejoicing demons. "You'd think that all of the seals had broken."

"The Righteous Man still needs to be retrieved." Castiel growled, and made to order the troops to continue. After all, the Righteous Man would be needed if they still wanted to prevent Lucifer's rising. However, before the orders could come out, there was a more important order from on high that came through the communication channels.

"To all angels in Hell, retreat. We will regroup at the edges of Hell, and try to form a new strategy to free the Righteous Man. We will retrieve him when the time is right." The new orders echoed through the remains of the several garrisons. A bit of relief came from all of the angels present. Well, except for one.

Castiel tilted his head at these orders, and looked before him. The Racks were in sight. To go back to the beginning and restart all of this? It was insanity. It was pointless. They had already come so far.

There was more than that. Castiel could almost feel a tugging at his Grace, as gentle as a child's. It was like something, a prayer, a longing, or just a quirk of fate, was calling him, telling him to continue forward. That he _needed_ to continue forward.

One of the things that had made Castiel a captain was that he could follow his instincts. It was considered human, but Castiel had always preferred to think that his Father was guiding him. This feeling, which could not be described fully or explained with logic, did not come often, but when he did, he followed through.

So while Balthazar was sighing and giving thanks for being able to leave, Castiel was trying to think of how to stay. In the end, Castiel decided to just be direct as per usual.

"I request permission to remain." Castiel said. He ignored Balthazar's slack-jawed expression.

There was a pause. "Why?" There was a slight tension in the voice of whoever was currently sending the orders.

"I intend to locate the Righteous Man." Castiel told the commanding officer. "It will be easier for the forces to raise him if they already know exactly where he is. Reconnaissance is necessary."

There was another pause as the matter was probably debated. Finally, they responded.

"Very well, Castiel. You may find the Righteous Man and keep watch over him. However, do not raise him until we tell you. He must only rise when the time is right."

"Understood." Castiel nodded, and turned toward the Racks, stretching his wings out to continue his journey.

"Are you insane?" Balthazar hissed, clutching his arm. "This is suicide!"

Castiel glanced over at where the rest of the angels were making a hasty retreat. "Go with them, Balthazar." He said, quietly. "I know I'm doing the right thing. I'll be fine."

Balthazar sensed the conviction in Castiel and finally sighed. "Fine." He gave a pat on his shoulder. "You better come back or I'll kill you myself." Balthazar followed after the others.

Castiel gave a small smile to his friend's back before turning forward. Determination was carved into the lines of his face as he took in the route that he would have to take.

With a snap of his wings, he was off.

* * *

In some ways, being by himself was easier in terms of going through this part of Hell. He could hide more easily, and pick off demons that approach him. The demons were actually a lot more lax than before, now that the seal had broken, and it was easier sometimes just to dodge them. He also was faster than most if they spotted him, and he didn't want to cause any large fights without any back-up.

Still, without his brethren by his side, Castiel felt himself being affected more and more by Hell's atmosphere. The miasma was as thick as the flames that burst from cracks in the ground, and the darkness seemed even closer without the light of his siblings to help him hold it at bay. Brimstone and blood scented the air, and it only grew stronger the closer he got to the Racks. The screams and pleas also got louder as he drew near.

Still, that tugging sensation remained, bringing him ever closer to where he knew the Righteous Man would be.

Castiel couldn't deny though that for the first time in his existence, he longed for the presence of his elder siblings.

Finally, after many small scrimmages and dodges, Castiel was almost at the edge of the Racks. He was about to enter the territory of Torture Central when a chill swept through him.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" A hissing, chilling voice came from behind him.

Castiel turned and lifted his blade just in time to fend off a blow that sent him crashing into the nearest jagged rack. He stifled the grunt of pain and looked up at his opponent.

A skeletal horse giving off black flames greeted him with its rider fused into its being. In short, it looked like someone had taken the top half of a person and stuck it to where a person would normally sit. The rider had thick, corded muscles and long black hair that was matted and twisted into braids, bones stuck in it like pins. Rotted teeth sneered at the angel as white eyes gleamed beneath a tarnished silver crown. It matched the silver armor which also added to the figures bulk. "Why in all of Hell would an angel be here? Especially alone?" The figure asked.

Castiel felt his Grace shiver. This was one of the beings that he had feared encountering since the excursion began. This was one of the old ones, the powerful ones. He had heard of him. "Belphegor." Castiel identified his attacker. He tightened his grip on his blade.

The demon smiled. "I see my reputation proceeds me." He gave a low, unearthly chuckle. "Still," his eyes raked over Castiel, "here I thought all of the angels had left for now." He tilted his head. "Did they abandon you?"

Castiel didn't answer. He straightened and looked towards further into the Racks where he knew the Righteous Man was waiting. He didn't dare turn his back on this demon though.

"Still looking for your precious Righteous Man?" Belphegor threw back his head and harshly laughed. "Didn't you feel the seal breaking? What use is he to you now?"

"Only the Righteous Man can stop that which he started." Castiel spoke, looking the demon in the eye.

Belphegor blinked. "You really believe that." The demon's tone was slightly incredulous. His demonic steed gave a sharp whiney, as if laughing at the angel.

Castiel didn't look away. He knew if he blinked he was a goner. Still, he had no obligation to reply to the demon.

"I see." Belphegor reached behind him and drew out a large, thick broadsword. It was dotted with blood, soot, and gouges. "Well, I cannot let you go any further. The Righteous Man is ours now." A smirk crossed his face. "And soon, he will be one of us."

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then another spurt of flame burst through the floor and the two leapt into battle.

Belphegor may have been stronger than Castiel, but Castiel was quicker. He dodged the first swing, and managed to get a swipe, catching the demon's side. The demon growled and the black flames began to burn in his eyes.

It was a deadly dance of blades. Castiel dodged the stamping hooves as well as the broadsword. He ignored the minute scratches that he gained, because for every blow he took, he managed to land two. Belphegor was not an opponent he would ever had thought he would take on, especially by himself. Still, Castiel kept his head, knowing that in battle, it was the brain that led to victory, not mere strength.

And this was the greatest obstacle blocking him from the Righteous Man.

Belphegor growled louder, enraged that he could not take out one measly angel. Suddenly, he changed the direction of his blade at the last moment, catching Castiel off guard. The flat of Belphegor's blade struck him in his chest and Castiel tumbled over. He landed dangerously close to a crevice in Hell's crust, and had to pause to catch his breath. Belphegor smirked and raised his hand.

Hell fire burst from below, and Castiel tried to roll out of the way. He wasn't entirely successful as the stench of burnt feathers filled the air.

Belphegor chuckled, dark and low. "You know," he said, slightly cocky, as he made his way towards Castiel to finish him off, "I've never seen an angel with black wings before." His smirk widened. "Makes you fit in with us, down here in the dark."

Castiel lay on the ground, breathing hard. He looked up at Belphegor as he approached.

"Maybe I shouldn't kill you." Belphegor mused. "I could hand you over to Alistair and see what kind of twisted demon you would make."

Castiel didn't reply.

"Oh, well." Belphegor hefted his blade, prepared to deal the final blow. "Thanks for all the fun!"

_Thud!_ In a flash of silver, a head hit the crust.

Belphegor looked in shock at the skeletal horse head on the ground. Castiel used the momentary confusion to use Belphegor's own blade as a stepping-stone. He was finally face to face with the demon.

"Your arrogance is your downfall." Castiel told him as cut off his head with his angel blade. The demon lit up inside with Hell fire.

Castiel touched the ground the same moment the corpse did. He looked over his handy work. "And it is better to be underestimated rather than overestimated." He commented, even though the demon could no longer hear anything. He sheathed his blade.

He took one moment to shake out his wings. The left one hurt, but he had only been slightly touched by the Hell fire, so Castiel counted his blessings. He quickly inspected his black wings, the demon's words running through his head.

He shook off the words as best he could.

After all, he had more pressing matters.

* * *

Castiel was shocked when he finally found the Righteous Man.

The Righteous Man was cutting up a soul, a poor woman who was sobbing and begging for him to stop, but he paid her no heed as a sadistic smile crossed his face. He was excellent at what he was doing, confident in both his blade and abilities. The dark and the flame were seeping into him, infecting him, turning him, making him into a being that he had spent his whole life fighting. And at this stage, it looked like he was enjoying it.

That is not what shocked Castiel though.

Since his brethren had left almost a decade before, there had been no light in Hell. The only light Castiel saw was the one that he himself gave off. It had pushed against the darkness, but it had gotten harder and harder as years passed.

So Castiel stood in awe of the light of the Righteous Man's, no, Dean Winchester's soul.

It was still fighting so hard against the demonic infection. Every time he cut into the soul, it flared up in defiance.

It was beautiful. Probably the most beautiful thing that Castiel had ever seen in all of his years of existence and seeing all of the beauty that Heaven and Earth could offer.

It figured that he would find the greatest wonder he had seen in Hell.

Castiel had heard humans talking about a light at the end of the tunnel. For the first time, he understood the metaphor.

He watched as the soul struggled against what it had been forced to do. This was the longing that he had felt. Despite all appearances, Dean Winchester did not want to do this. If the demonic energy hadn't spread so far, perhaps he might have been crying. Still, the soul was getting nearer to the edge, and soon, no angel would be able to pull Dean Winchester from the darkness that threatened to engulf him.

Distantly, Castiel heard his orders to wait until "the time was right" to raise the Righteous Man.

Looking at Dean Winchester, Castiel decided that right then and there was the right time.

He didn't want to frighten him off, so he gathered his wavelengths and formed his appearance to that of his most compatible vessel on Earth, albeit with his wings showing. Then, he approached the soul.

"Dean Winchester." He intoned, walking closer all the while.

Dean Winchester paused and as he walked forward, Castiel could see a sort of tension rising within him.

He almost didn't catch he blade as Dean Winchester swung his arm to stab him in the chest. Castiel managed to grab it though, and his right hand came forward to clamp onto Dean's left shoulder.

"Put down the blade, Dean Winchester." Castiel looked Dean in the eyes, surprised at how green they still were. The hand within his grasp trembled. "You do not have to torture anyone else."

The soul seemed to be searching for something, and he must have found it, because the blade dropped to the floor.

"Good." With that, Castiel gripped Dean tightly by the shoulder, pushing back and eliminating the demonic taint. He curled around the soul, and the soul responded by reverting from a humanoid appearance into its base form.

Castiel hadn't felt so invigorated and empowered in years. At that moment, he knew that he would let nothing harm this soul. He no longer felt his injuries as he spread his wings wide.

A message spread throughout all of Hell. _Back off. This soul is mine._ It was not necessarily loud or forceful, but there was a resolve behind it that had every demon who heard it shiver.

Castiel flew up through the terrain of Hell. Demons continued to attack him, not wanting to lose such a prize. Castiel fought them all off, new injuries not even registering, and he didn't slow down for a single one. He gripped the soul tighter and held it close.

And slowly, hesitantly, the soul gripped him back.

This was the start of something, Castiel knew. Something was forming between he and this soul, a bond of sorts, but it was just a beginning, just a start. Only time would tell what would become of the two of them, what they would be.

Something in Castiel felt a tiny thrill at the thought of being tied to such a beautiful soul.

Castiel could not tell how much time had passed when he finally broke through the dimension of Hell into the borderland. It was like taking a breath after almost drowning.

The darkness was gone, the flames were gone, the smell of death, blood, and fear were gone. If Castiel had been human, he thought he might have wept from sheer relief.

He caught a glimpse of shocked faces, Balthazar reaching out to him, before his injuries finally caught up to him and he collapsed, still curled around the soul protectively.

A different kind of darkness overtook him.

* * *

"Cassie, Cassie, wake up already." A voice was calling for him from afar. It was using that nickname that he hated. "Bloody hell, hurry up and open your eyes."

Castiel grunted and opened his eyes to see the gentle light of Heaven surrounding him.

"About bloody time." Balthazar's face appeared overhead.

"Balthazar." His mind was still fuzzy as he tried to remember what had happened. "What…" He sat up abruptly, memories rushing back. After a quick check, he found the soul still cupped in his hand and cradled to his chest. He felt slightly confused, as he was sure that Seraphs or an Archangel should have taken the soul from him already.

A quiet chuckle came from beside him. "You did it, Cassie." There was a slight hint of awe in Balthazar's voice. "You raised him. All by yourself."

"I did." Castiel was just a bit in awe himself. He had actually done it. Still, he was confused. "Wouldn't someone have taken him by now?"

"Normally, yes, but," Balthazar glanced between Castiel and the soul, "you wouldn't let go, no matter what, and when it looked like they were going to hurt you," he nodded at the Righteous Man, "this little guy didn't like it."

Castiel blinked. "I see." Once more, he stared at the soul in wonder.

"You're being given some recovery time, but then they expect you to finish raising his body." Balthazar clapped him on the shoulder. His voice lowered as he leaned in. "And you're going to have some explaining to do. Most are fine with what you've done, but the higher ups seem to be upset that you didn't follow orders to the letter."

Castiel gave a slight nod as Balthazar departed. He had been expecting that. Looking at the soul in his hands, he couldn't help but think that it was worth it though.

* * *

The Righteous Man's decaying body was not as impressive as his soul. Still, he repaired it and left it unblemished, erasing all signs of the hard life the Righteous Man had been forced to endure. When it was not decaying, it actually did not seem all that bad, but Castiel was not the authority on human standards of beauty.

Castiel brought the soul gently down, intending to place it back in his body. The soul stopped him, and spoke for the first time.

"What is your name?" The soul whispered.

Castiel blinked, surprised. "My name is Castiel."

"Will I see you again?" The soul hesitated to say this, but the message came across.

"Do you wish to see me again?" Castiel asked, curious as to why it would ask.

The soul didn't respond, but Castiel could sense its answer.

"Yes." Castiel said, and he could feel the relief coming off of the soul. Finally, the soul allowed him to let go. To Castiel's surprise, as the soul settled into the body, a hand print burned its way onto his flesh where Castiel had gripped the soul in Hell.

Interesting.

Still, Castiel leaned down and breathed life back into Dean Winchester.

As he stood back and watched the man break through the earth on top of his grave, Castiel raised his voice in a message to all.

_Dean Winchester is saved._

* * *

_AN: So this is probably the longest part of the fic. After all, this one had to cover 40 years of battle and pre- and post-Hell stuff. This is basically my headcanons of what went on when Cas journeyed through Hell. I hope you have enjoyed this. Personally, I like the thought of Dean almost stabbing Cas when they met in Hell as well. It would make things consistent between them. I've got a chapter for Sam, coming up next.  
_


	2. For the Brother

**For the Brother**

Castiel stood once more at the edge of Hell. A ghost of a memory of flying next to Balthazar the last time he was here crossed his mind. He ignored the pain at the loss of his friend and brother. Balthazar had been killed during the battles to protect the seals, and there was nothing he could do for him.

He paced a bit, debating what he was about to do. He wanted to tell himself that he was going to do this because it was the right thing to do, which it was, and that was the only reason. He couldn't deny the truth though.

Cas was doing this for Dean.

It seemed like such a long time had passed since he had raised the man, when he knew that it had only been a couple of years. For a celestial being, that wasn't even a blink of the eye.

Sam didn't deserve to go to Hell any more than Dean had, and he especially did not deserve to be at the mercy of two enraged Archangels. Still, Castiel felt conflicted.

But even from this far away, Cas could feel the agony radiated from Dean down their bond. To Cas's surprise, the bond had grown between the two and was much deeper and profound than he had thought possible. Castiel had Fallen for Dean, but it was more than that. There was a word to describe how Castiel felt for the human, but Cas couldn't bring himself to admit it, even to himself. The feeling wouldn't be returned, and as Dean was right at this very moment distancing himself from a life with the supernatural, with Cas, he had no right to even tell him. After all, Dean would keep his promise to Sam.

To him, Sam was everything, and Castiel had known, before he had retrieved Dean from Hell, that there would be nothing that would ever come close to Sam in Dean's eyes.

It didn't stop the hurt though.

Especially since he could still hear Dean wishing and praying that Sam had been brought back to life instead of him.

That was probably what hurt the most. Dean couldn't even be happy that he was alive. It had seemed that he was when he had first opened his eyes back in that cemetery, but it had come crashing down as Dean had realized that Sam hadn't been brought back.

Despite all of the talk of family, Cas was not really Dean's brother. He couldn't hope to compare to the real one.

So, he stood on the edge of Hell, and tried to tell himself that he was doing this to save Sam, but he was really doing it for Dean.

Castiel closed his eyes.

He had fought for Free Will, for choice, yet funnily enough, he didn't seem to have much of a choice when it came to Dean.

Cas took one last gulp of clean, fresh air, and then he dived once more into Hell.

* * *

Hell was different than the last time he had been there.

And by that, he meant that it had been thrown into utter chaos. Demons were fighting demons left, right, and center. Rage and disbelief were almost tangible in the air at the knowledge that their father was once more locked up. It was now a battle of domination on who would rise to the top of the heap and rule.

It was the perfect cover for Castiel. While he may have been raised to the rank of a Seraph, he was on his own from the beginning this time. Also, he had to travel to the deepest part of Hell in order to reach the Cage. The Racks were not as deep.

It was to his advantage as he managed to skirt around most of the fighting. He did get involved in some short battles, but he took negligible damage and he silenced all who would have raised the alarm to his presence. He made it to the Racks in a fraction of the time it took when he was here last. He gulped and continued forward.

There were some things that were the same. The darkness encroached upon him, trying to snuff him out. Still, he fought against it more easily as this time he was stronger. His Father had brought him back, and this was his reward.

And saving Sam was his choice.

The first thing Castiel noticed was the drop in temperature. As he got closer and closer, the chill in the air got stronger until it seemed like even the flames had frozen.

Cas couldn't help but wonder why people talked about Hell freezing over like it was impossible when parts of it were already frozen.

It wasn't long before he stood before it.

The infamous Cage was an intimidating structure. It towered high and wide, big enough to contain the power of the Archangels that it now kept. A layer of ice had crept over the block, hinting at what was inside.

Castiel gulped. He was about to do something that had never been done, and he had to do it carefully, because he did not want to release the Archangels. Their first task would be to smite him (again) and then try to restart the Apocalypse. Cas was not going to make all of the efforts and sacrifices be in vain, even to save Sam.

Cautiously, Castiel approached the Cage until he was right in front of the main door.

He took out his angel blade and cut himself. Blood and Grace began to leak over his fingers. Making sure he had a decent amount, he counted his right hand in it and began to draw sigils.

Castiel had always been interested in sigils. They were something that could be used even without powers, and different combinations could bring forth many effects. He had designed the wards and sigils for the Winchesters himself with his knowledge, because no one had ever needed such strong sigils to hide from all angels, including archangels.

Now, he was doing that one more, by making a door that would allow him to go in and get Sam, but wouldn't allow the Archangels through. Finally, he finished it and watched as a doorway formed.

Unfortunately, Castiel sensed right away that there were some unforeseen consequences. A wave of power was unleashed as the doorway opened, informing all demons that a doorway to their father had opened and offered an opportunity to release him. He sensed almost all demons dropping what they were doing and beginning to make their way to the Cage.

Furthermore, the Archangels themselves have noticed this intrusion. They don't seem to recognize him, or know whether he is to be their savior.

Castiel takes advantage of their confusion and darts in, quickly making his way to where he senses Sam and he grabs him.

At that moment, Michael and Lucifer realize who he is. Their fury is overwhelming.

_Traitor! Faithless! How dare you! _Michael screams at him. He throws attack after attack at Castiel, but luckily, he dodges them all while dragging Sam towards the doorway he created.

Lucifer too rains blows down upon him, but his words are the ones that nearly trip him up as he closes in on the door. They are not the loud screams of Michael, but that soft, tempting whisper that one hears in the middle of the night before going to sleep. _You have Fallen further than even me. The Rebel. The Pariah. That is what you are. Even if you belonged before, you will never belong ever again. All because you chose that human. Have fun, little outcast, while it lasts._

All involved knew that Sam was not the human Lucifer was referring to.

The words sunk into Castiel just like the cold. Insidious and twisted, they seemed to permeate all the way into his Grace. They sounded too much like a prophecy.

Still, Castiel knew better than to listen to the words of the Devil.

It was at the door that Cas realized that he would also have to deal with his other problem a lot sooner than he thought.

Demons were assembled just outside the doorway, clamoring for a chance to enter and try to free their father. Castiel sent out a wave of power to propel them away temporarily as he exited the Cage. It didn't last long, as they seemed to jump right back up, pushing their way towards him.

Castiel's one hand was occupied as he clutched Sam close to him. He needed a moment to make sure that he had retrieved all of Sam, but the demons allowed no openings for him to do so. It got worse as he sensed the power of the Archangels working together to try to expand the opening to allow themselves to be free.

Cas was fighting on two fronts, trying to keep the demons back and the Archangels in. He cursed himself silently for not seeing this coming, but there was no backing out of this now. He fought through the chaos, just barely managing to hold his ground.

There was a jarring clang as the door slammed shut. Castiel knew he wasn't the only one who jumped, and he looked back at the door in confusion. It had shut too early, and it hadn't been open long enough to make sure everything was set. The sigils were smeared, so he could only assume that some demon in the scrimmage had managed to wipe out their one chance to grab Lucifer.

That was all Castiel had time to think, as the demons, enraged by the foiled attempt, now were able to concentrate solely on him and his charge. He once more sent out a wave of power to give himself some breathing room, and then he stretched out his wings and quickly took off in the direction of the nearest portal to Earth.

Carrying Sam through Hell was different than when he had carried Dean. For starters, he was actually carrying Sam's body, not just his essence, so it was slightly heavier. The weight difference was not noticeable to an angel, but it was still there. Also, Sam made no attempt to cling to Cas as Dean had. That was the largest difference that Castiel noticed. He ignored all of this in favor of leaving Hell as quickly as possible.

Naturally, he was pursued. However, he was faster than most of them, and those that did catch up to them were easily fought off despite his handicap. It didn't take long for most of the demons to break away from the chase anyway, as they descended back to the chaos they had been making when Castiel had arrived. He heard hurled insults and plenty of what Dean had called, "The Blame Game." It was not his concern though.

* * *

Castiel broke through Hell, and landed back on Earth.

For a moment, he just stood there, breathing and clutching Sam's tall frame close. Then, he gently laid Sam down and set to work on reviving him. There was some minimal damage, but it was easily repaired. Soon, Cas found himself rendering himself invisible to human eyes as Sam opened his eyes.

There seemed to be something off. Sam moved differently, and there seemed to be something lacking in his eyes. Castiel brushed it off though as a natural reaction of having just come back to life.

There were more, little, signs. Before taking on this task, Castiel had already decided to remain anonymous in this deed. After all, Dean had made it clear that he was no longer really wanted in his life, so Cas would let them get on like they used to without the interference of him and Heaven. Therefore, Cas didn't answer as Sam prayed to him.

It was odd though. Cas only register every other prayer that Sam made, and they… well, echoed weirdly. They lacked the conviction and faith that was really needed to pray effectively. Cas ignored that though.

He followed Sam as he tracked down Dean. Then, he stood by as Sam stood impassively observed Dean in his new life with the woman, Lisa, and her son. Following his gaze, Cas felt something twist in pain within him. Looking back at Sam, he was shocked as he saw Sam turn away from his brother.

Something was wrong and Cas didn't know what. However, as he was no longer a part of the Winchesters' lives, it probably was not his concern.

As he looked at Dean once more, his insides twisted, and he had the strongest feeling to just go home. He wanted to soak up the light of Heaven after so long and spread the message of Free Will to his siblings so they could build a better life.

With a heavy heart, he lifted his wings and returned to Heaven.

Later, he would regret not following through on that bad feeling. Later, he would know that the entire incident had been a sign of what was to come. Later, he would wish that he had never returned to Heaven. Later, he would think that what Lucifer had said was undoubtedly true.

But that didn't happen until much later.

* * *

_AN: So this chapter is a lot shorter and faster. I think that Cas tried to do it lickity split and Crowley shut the door early to ensure that Sam didn't get his soul. Then, in the chaos, Castiel missed that fact. Still, mistakes happen. I think I'm going to wait until after next week's episode to upload the final chpater. It's mostly written, but we may learn something that I might want to incorporate into it, which is why it'll be later. I've heard next week will have Cain and Cas. Still, the last chapter is more about a figurative hell, than the actual place. And there will be Destiel. So here's a heads-up.  
_


	3. Always For Dean Winchester

**_Warning: Spoilers up to 10x14 "The Executioner's Song." Also, Destiel ahead._**

* * *

**Always For Dean Winchester**

Ever since that time when Metatron had laid his hand on him and essentially downloaded all of his pop culture knowledge, words and phrases had been swirling in Castiel's head.

He could not always make sense of what exactly the references were about. One might pop up in his head given the situation, and while he would know the reference, where it came from, and what it was about, he would not necessarily connect it or see its relevance. Like on that first night with this knowledge heavy in his head as Dean and Sam talked about the Death Star. On the same night when Cas had realized that Dean had taken up the Mark of Cain, and he couldn't help but break a bit inside.

How could he and Dean have gotten so far apart? That must have been how Dean had felt when he found out about his deal with Crowley.

Even now, the references welled up inside, relating themselves to the situation that Castiel and the Winchesters now found themselves in.

_"We create our own demons." _The line could not be more accurate at this time it seemed. While Dean was no longer a demon, at this time, this situation really was their own creation. It didn't help that it seemed to be getting worse at every turn as they failed to find a cure.

_"Those who fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it." _Why couldn't Dean have learned from his mistakes, from Sam's mistakes? Both Cas and Sam had trusted demons and in both cases it had led to apocalyptic disasters. And Dean had been bromancing the same demon that Castiel had made a deal with. Hadn't Dean learned that nothing good would come from dealing with Crowley?

_"We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell." _In the years since meeting Dean, Cas had realized that being in Hell, doesn't actually mean that you are in that God forsaken place. People can create their own Hell.

And Cas knew, even as he saw Dean go through the motions that Dean considered himself to be in Hell.

Dean had killed humans. Sure, they were scummy people who intended to take advantage of Claire, but they were still people, humans. The ones that Dean had sworn to protect when he grew up at the age of four. Not as important as Sam, of course, but important all the same.

Less than a couple of months after they had first met upon the Earthly plane, Castiel and Dean had sat side by side on park benches, watching children play. At that moment, Cas had seen the pride that Dean had taken in saving those people, for being willing to lose a seal containing Lucifer in order to save their lives. It was a great contrast to the current Dean who had failed to save humans and killed them himself.

It was heartbreaking to see Dean in this state. Dean hated himself more in this moment than he ever had before, and that was saying something.

Castiel had to stifle the urge to take the hunter up into his arms and hold him close for as long as possible. It wasn't the first time he had had the urge to do something like that, but it had gotten so much stronger since he had been human. He could understand Hannah's fear of such human emotions, and the desire to remain merely an angel. However, Cas had had emotions for Dean since he had seen him in Hell, and none of his efforts had been able to subdue them.

He wanted to think that all of his urges were for Dean's sake, but that would be a lie. When Castiel had become human, all he had wanted to do was find Dean and curl up in his embrace and cry over the loss and all of his stupid mistakes. Still, he was a soldier and had controlled himself enough. Even when Dean had kicked him out and all he wanted was to cry, he held himself together.

Cas was not ashamed to admit that he had shed tears, for the first time in his existence, when he had heard that Dean was dead. He was just glad that he had managed to get through Metatron's capture and held them in until he was by himself. Then, Sam had called in a panic over Dean's disappearance and note, and there had been no time for emotions or his own needs, as Dean needed to be found.

In the end, it always came back to Dean.

_"And for what? That's right: to save Dean Winchester. That was your goal, right? You drape yourself in the flag of Heaven, but really, it's all about saving one human."_

Castiel grit his teeth at the memory. Metatron may be a lying, manipulative bastard, but in that one instance he had hit the nail on the head.

Castiel sobered up almost immediately. Metatron had been one of their biggest chances to finding out how to cure Dean, but that had blown up in their faces. He still couldn't believe the angel had the gall to ask for favors in return. All he had given them was that the Blade might be needed and some cryptic advice.

For once, Castiel could sympathize with Dean in their first year of acquaintance as he remembered giving some just as mysterious answers.

_"The river shall end at its source."_

Seriously, what the hell?

_"What I love most about rivers is: you can't step into the same river twice."_ And these pop culture references weren't helping.

Castiel sighed, not for the first time. He had been looking up various leads, looking into the oldest books and records he could find in Heaven and the North American continent to try to puzzle out Metatron's message. He couldn't help but be frustrated at his inability to not travel to the countries on the other side of the world that held the oldest records on Earth. His lack of wings was a serious impediment.

It didn't help that Sam kept on calling him with his latest worries about Dean. Castiel felt great sympathy for Bobby, who in the past had been on the receiving end of such calls. It really didn't help when he was trying to find Cain, who he figured was the biggest chance besides Metatron. Of course, that search had fallen through as well, just like Metatron had. Still, he had been almost glad for Sam's nagging when Cas heard about what had happened to Charlie. Cas still hadn't met her, but he could understand her situation.

Dean probably understood, too, if he stopped to think about it.

Like Charlie, Castiel had done terrible things while under the influence of supernatural forces. He had slaughtered thousands of his siblings while under the power of the Purgatory souls and Leviathans. Like Charlie, he could not deny that the blame was his own, not the souls or Leviathan. Dean denied this truth though, which was probably why he was having such a hard time dealing with his own deeds from when he was a demon and affected by the Mark.

Magic doesn't make decisions for people. People make decisions.

Castiel had since accepted what he had done. It didn't stop him from trying to atone, but he knew what he had done. Dean still couldn't even accept what he had done when he went to Hell.

Hence, the reason why Dean was in a Hell of his own making.

Sam had been convinced that Dean just had to do what Cain did in order to control the Mark. That Dean _apparently_ just had to fight against its control and everything would be fine. Cas couldn't help but think that fighting it would just make things worse. And what had Cain done exactly to control it? Even if Dean did that, Dean was not Cain.

It's not like even that had lasted all that long. It wouldn't last forever. Look at how well things had worked out for Cain. He managed to resist the Mark for over a century before giving into it once more. Dean had been forced to kill him, which had just seemed to suck the hope out of him. It scared Castiel.

Cas's thoughts were running circles.

What was the source of power for the First Blade? The Mark. What was the source of power for the Mark? Cain? No. Dean? No.

That was the real question. Unfortunately, it kept coming to one answer: Lucifer.

And that was unacceptable.

They had fought so hard, sacrificed so much, screwed up so much just to make sure that Lucifer stayed in the Cage where he belonged.

There was no way that Castiel could let Lucifer out of the Cage. With everything he had done for Dean, if he did that, Dean would really kill him this time.

After all, more than anything, Lucifer's release would put Sam in the most danger.

So, Cas went back to the drawing board. Maybe he was taking this too literally. That had always been one of his problems according to Dean.

When the answer came to him, he could have hit himself. The source was not necessarily Lucifer, but Lucifer's Grace. The Grace of an angel.

Yet it was more than that. How did the Mark come to be? Because Cain made a choice, all those years ago, that started humanity down its path.

_"You never step into the same river twice."_

Dean had also made a choice, but it was completely different circumstances. Cain had made the choice because it was the only way to keep his brother out of Lucifer's clutches. When put in the same situation, Dean had been forced to let his brother let Lucifer in. The reason for Dean receiving the Mark was not to save his brother, but in an effort to redeem himself both in his own eyes and in Sam's for screwing things up.

Of course, in Castiel's eyes, there had been nothing to be redeemed.

Still, everything about the two, Dean and Cain, while appearing similar, was actually drastically different.

_"The water's always changing, always flowing."_

Still, maybe the solution was simpler than they have thought. The words that Sam had told Cas that Charlie had been saying.

_"Good? Bad? I'll settle for balanced."_

Grace. Choice. Acceptance. Balance.

Cas began to think up a plan that might work to save Dean.

And then he wouldn't have to kill him.

Because they would have to bring to light all of the things that they never talked about. Things from the past, feelings and emotions, essentially chick-flick stuff. Yet that might be the only thing that could help save Dean's soul.

_"Love is an open door."_

In some ways, this plan was scarier than diving into Hell.

Because this was diving into the thing lying deep within themselves.

* * *

Sam looked tired when he opened the door. "Hey, Cas." He dragged his hand over his face and yawned. "What brings you here?" He opened the door wider, allowing Cas to walk past him.

"I wished to talk to Dean." Cas said, making his way down the stairs. "How has he been?"

"Since Cain?" Cas nodded. Sam grimaced. "He's… not good."

Castiel deflated a bit. He had hoped that maybe a few cases would have cheered Dean up since what happened, but it didn't appear to be the case. At least Dean didn't have access to the Blade.

"Yeah, but…" Sam glanced at Cas. "Sometimes a visit from you helps." He admitted. He made his way to the kitchen to make himself some breakfast. "Dean's in his room, probably reading the same lore books over again, even though he said that he was giving up."

"Thank you." Cas walked towards Dean's room, making sure to knock before entering. "Dean?"

As Sam had predicted, Dean was sitting on the ground, leaning against the bed and reading a lore book. Dean actually putting effort into research was always a sign that something was wrong. Cas felt his heart clench. Dean kept insisting that he was done, that he wouldn't keep looking since he didn't want his hopes to be raised. Yet looking at him now, it was obvious that it was just another lie that Dean was telling to himself and them. He looked up as Castiel stepped in. "Hey, Cas."

"Hello, Dean." Castiel braced himself for what was to come, as it was far out of Dean's comfort zone. "We need to talk."

Dean sighed and closed the book. He had an air of anticipation about him, as if he had been expecting this. "Look, I know that…"

"I know you expect me to kill you if you go dark but," he had thought about his opening, and he decided to do the thing that he was most hesitant about, "I don't want to kill you, Dean." Cas came right out and said it. "I know, you asked me to, but I don't think I will be able to if it were to come to that."

Dean looked a little shocked. Then he winced, "Cas, sorry, but I…" He looked tired, just like Sam. "I can't become that thing again, you know that. And with everything that happened with Cain…" Dean gulped. "So, you need to stop me."

Cas pursed his lips. "Even if I wanted to, I can't even guarantee I will be here if my Grace were to run out before that time, Dean." Dean gave a jolt as if he had forgotten that tidbit, but he pressed on. "But I thought that maybe you were looking at this all wrong." He gestured to the bed. "So we are going to talk."

Dean squinted, probably sensing that they were going to talk about _emotions_. Too bad. There were things that needed to be cleared up before Cas made his appeal that would potentially save Dean. In all of their previous adventures, if they could be called that, they had used spells, risky actions, and weapons. None of those would probably help here. So, all that really remained were words.

"At least notice that I have not employed handcuffs or rings of Holy Fire in order to gain cooperation to talk." Castiel pointed out, referring to how the Winchesters usually convinced people to talk to them.

Dean gave an awkward chuckle, but sat down on the bed. Cas sat down next to them. For a moment, they didn't speak. Dean wriggled a bit, uncomfortable.

Finally, Castiel broke the silence. "Why do you view your demon self as something separate?"

Dean furrowed his brow. "It wasn't me." His voice was a growl, full of tension.

Castiel looked at him in the eye. This was going to be painful for both of them. "Yes, it was." There was no way for Cas to comfort him about this. The time for lying, even to themselves, was over. "Just as Bad!Charlie was still her. Just like Cain, even while fighting it, was the Father of Murder. Just as when I was God, it was still me." Something dark flashed in Dean's eyes at the reminder of those bad times. Still, his expression was a bit surprised as if he hadn't expected that.

Cas lowered his voice a bit. "I cannot deny what I did then, and," seeing Dean about to protest, he cut him off, "as I told you once before, you cannot defend my actions. I may have had my mind broken by the souls and Leviathans, but it was the result of my choices and actions. They were my actions."

Dean didn't look at Castiel as he continued.

"I have accepted that. I will always try to repair what I did, but at least I have taken responsibility for my actions. Charlie, as I understand, has also taken responsibility for her actions. And even when she was split between good and bad, her good half was still able to make the choice to pull the trigger. Cain accepted his execution after you bested him." Castiel turned Dean's face so he could look him in the eye. "No one is entirely good or evil. You like to look at the world as if it is black and white and separate what you deem is good and evil. I heard what you did to Bad!Charlie, Dean." Dean tried to jerk out of his grasp. "You didn't want her to corrupt the good half, but you seemed to forget that that was still Charlie." Castiel's gaze dropped to the Mark.

"You even do that for yourself." Dean opened his mouth to protest, but Castiel cut him off once more. "Anything that you want for yourself you reject as wrong, because of your utter devotion to Sam. As we all know, he will always come first. You reject what you see as wrong, as evil, whether it's your own desires or dreams or actions that are evil, such as when you were a demon or what you did to those people." Castiel reached out and put his hand over the Mark.

At that, Dean jerked out of his reach and stood. He began to pace. "So what? I know I did bad. What does that have to do anything?" He ran his hand through his hair. "I want this damn thing off me! I don't want to be a monster! Cain said…" His voice trailed off. "I can't become like him!" Dean sounded desperate.

Castiel sighed. He should have expected this. "You think you can do that, just by rejecting it." His voice was a bit hard. "You told Cain you would accept this burden, but you aren't. This isn't something that you can simply fight against. And that's probably making it worse, Dean." He stood.

"So what?" Dean yelled at him.

Compared to Dean, Castiel's voice was quiet. "You have more of a choice than I think you realize Dean. I don't know what Cain told you, but the Mark can't make you do anything. It brings the more violent parts of you out, but they don't control you." He looked away, the old memories brining a wave of pain. "After all, I was eventually able to choose sending the souls back, and Charlie choose to accept her darkness." He looked back up, meeting Dean's eyes. "It's not about getting rid of it, Dean. It's not about rejection; it's about acceptance."

"What? The Mark? As if I – "

Castiel stood as well, cutting Dean off. "Not the Mark, Dean." He stepped close, into Dean's personal space. "It's about accepting yourself."

"That thing was not me!" Dean was adamant about that point.

"Yes, it was." Cas brought his hands up to clutch his face. "And that's fine. As I told Claire, we all have a bit of monster in us." He looked Dean in the eyes. "That's fine. Can't you accept all of yourself? You are more than just Sam's protector.

"I think that may be what eventually helped Cain, at least for a while. I don't think that is all that will help you though, as Sam thinks, because you are not him. I think I can help with that, but it's your choice." He leaned in closer, with Dean staring at him with wide eyes. "Can you accept yourself Dean? Can you accept my help?" If Castiel moved forward another inch, his and Dean's lips would meet. "Do you think that you deserve to be saved?"

"Cas, I…don't…" Dean was speechless. "I don't want to hurt you or Sam."

"It's your choice, Dean. But, just so you know," Cas knew that his face softened a bit, which seemed to surprise Dean a bit more, "I still think that you deserve to be saved."

Dean gulped. "Sometimes…" He says it hesitantly, like even thinking the words is wrong. "When I'm with you…sometimes I think I might deserve it."

A small smile curled up Cas's lips. "Then, let me help."

Dean gave a small nod, and Cas closed the short distance between them.

Dean's lips were softer than Cas had expected. It wasn't like kissing April, Hannah, or even Meg. Dean was different from them in all ways. While Castiel had felt something for Meg, it was nothing compared to how he had always felt for Dean since the moment he had seen his light shining out in the depths of Hell. With April, he had kissed her back because he wanted comfort and to feel connected to another person. Kissing Hannah had just been awkward for everyone involved. This was so very different than that. This was Cas saving Dean once more.

Through their softly opened lips, Cas took a bit of the Grace dwelling in him and directed it towards the Mark. The Grace would help bolster Dean's own soul, and it would counter-balance the Mark. It was like adding a base to an acid to turn it into water.

Removing one of his hands from Dean's face, he brought it down and he could feel that the mark that he himself had given Dean restore itself. A sign that he had pulled Dean from Hell once more.

A Mark for a Mark.

It was balanced.

Dean and Cas broke apart with a gasp. The kiss had lasted longer than Castiel had intended, but it had done what he wanted it too, and he was sure he could be forgiven for taking the chance.

Castiel took a step back, although he was still in what constituted as Dean's personal space.

Dean looked down at the Mark, but he also brought his hand up and clutched his shoulder where Cas's Mark was. "Cas…" His tone now held a bit of wonder in it.

Cas smiled, and then he let himself faint, landing in Dean's arms.

* * *

It was the whisper of voices that woke Cas up.

"So, it's fine now?" Sam asked tentatively.

"Yeah, I mean, it's still here, but," Cas felt a hand brush the hair off of his forehead, "I can handle it now."

"Why didn't Cas tell us that he had a plan?" From the tone, Castiel knew that Sam was throwing a bitch face in his direction. "Besides, it's not gone. It doesn't really solve it…"

"I think it kinda does. Besides, not even Cain knew of a real cure." Dean defended him. "And it wasn't like he knew it would work. He probably didn't want to give us false hope or something."

Cas tuned out the chatter for a moment as he snuggled deeper into the warmth that surrounded him. The voices paused as the owners probably watched his movements.

"So looks like Cas saved your butt from one hell of a situation again." Sam said, slightly amused. "Looks like he can leave the Blade where he hid it."

"Yeah, he always does." The hand had returned. "So, it looks like it's time to return the favor."

"Are you and he…"

"I don't know. Maybe. I think we might be."

Castiel waited a while and eventually he heard the sound of someone leaving, and felt a shift of movement as Dean sat down on the bed beside him.

Dean sighed. "Jeez, why'd you do it, Cas?"

"For you." Castiel gave a small chuckle as he felt Dean jump, the hunter not having realized that Cas was conscious. "It generally comes back to you." His voice was a sleepy murmur as he managed to wrench his eyes open.

Dean was looking at him in fond confusion. "But why me?" There was a tremble to his voice that showed his anxiety.

For a moment, Cas just looked at him. Then, he managed to stretch out his hand to grasp the one that was still smoothing down his hair. He pulled it down so that he could look at it. It was the hand that was below the Mark of Cain.

"When I rescued you from Hell," he heard a hitch in Dean's voice at the reminder, "I had been by myself for almost ten years. The only light that was in all of Hell was my own. There was nothing but darkness and it kept on creeping closer and closer.

"But there you were, your soul shining out in defiance of what had been thrust upon it. Despite the fact that you were torturing someone, you fought so hard, fought against becoming a monster." He squeezed Dean's hand as his eyes drifted closed. "It was beautiful."

Dean cleared his throat a bit, obviously a bit embarrassed. "Wow, I don't think I've ever heard you talk as much as you have today." He was trying to joke to hide it.

Cas hummed a bit, still feeling tired.

Dean chuckled a bit and the hand moved away. "Go back to sleep, Cas." The pressure next to Cas on the bed remained.

Castiel hid a smile as he fell back asleep. Dean and Sam were safe, and Hell was far away.

He deserved a bit of a break.

And this time, Dean would be the one to watch over him.

* * *

_AN: So, that's a possibility of some of my current theories that I have. I doubt it will happen like this since it looks like Metatron will pop up once more, but whatever, it's my vision. Was anyone else chanting for Dean to kill him during that torture scene? Because I was all for killing him. Anyway, I have learned to not Google meta Supernatural, because it leads to Tumblr sites that have a lot of theories that you will want to incorporate into your fics. That's what this is a product of slightly. I start reading about the symbolism of rivers and doors in Supernatural and suddenly I have "Just Around the Riverbed" and "Love Is an Open Door" stuck in my head. Still, I think that Cas will have a role in Dean's eventual handling of the Mark, even if it doesn't go away permanently. Though maybe Cain was doing some serious foreshadowing. In any case, I have to go recover from the trauma of tonight's episode. See you and I hope you review.  
_


End file.
